Dorchados
by CaffeineChic
Summary: Actions understood but not forgiven without penance


Title: Dorchados

Rating: Something with a letter. They get nekkid.

Disclaimer: They're mine. Allllll mine...no wait. Lies. Not mine. Not even a little bit.

A hundred thousand thanks to Keely for editting and for the suggestions. You're a star

All mistakes are mine, all blame for pantsness is mine too. See y'all at the bar.

The settling ashes of a ruined city would not be the ground of their final parting. There had been no details laid out for their next union, no times, no places, no circumstances...she had seen to all of that now.

Time had lost it's boundaries for her. The living dead, encased in dirt beneath the ground for so long, night's end had ceased to reward her with a day. Endless darkness for endless moments. Days uncountable. Seconds into minutes into hours. Impossible to differentiate, impossible to keep track. The edges of one bleeding into the next. Relearning their divisible nature had been more difficult than anticipated. A week, then two, then seven had passed before she regrasped their finite structure. So many of them lost in a lifetime, too many choices, too many mistakes, not all of them hers.

Irina smiled to herself, small and inward. Reestablishing contact with those who would carry out her word had proved difficult. Her eyes narrowed with still fresh venom towards a sister now rightly in the ground that had previously held her.

Her heels clicked against the stone steps as she descended. The door at the bottom heavy, designed to keep the noise within. She placed her palm against it, the cold resonating against her skin. She pushed through.

The sliver of light that chased ahead vanished into cracks as the door swung shut behind her. Eyes now painfully accustomed to the dark fixed on the outline of the form before her. She flicked a switch, a soft light illuminated the room.

The man before her was slightly worse for wear. She had been precise in her instructions that he was to arrive in one piece. The overall piece appeared to have been dented in transit. No matter.

Arms stretched out on either side of his head, wrists of both enclosed in the bindings of the spreader bar that hung low from the ceiling. The length of it leaving little possibility for him to bend his elbows but the height allowing for some relaxation in his legs.

Her fingertips feathered across his brow, barely a touch as they skimmed down his cheek. His face angled towards the ground, consciousness not yet taking its hold. She took a half step closer to him, feeling the heat rushing from his body, unhindered by clothing. Her instructions had been followed to the letter. Moving closer still she pressed the length of herself against him, her mouth seeking out his ear.

"Jack." A word in whisper echoed in the silence of the room. He mumbled incoherently as the call of his name slid into his mind. "Wake up, baby."

He jerked slightly rattling the spreader, the unfamiliar sensation registering, violently snapping him awake. He blinked wildly attempting to focus on his surroundings, his feet flailing slightly as they tried to acquire purchase of the ground. The spreader swung fiercely at his attempts to lower his arms. A grin tugged at the corner of Irina's mouth as her hands reached out to steady his hips.

"Don't struggle." He stilled beneath her hands, resting his weight against her, his breathing ragged.

"Irina?" Her name rasped from his lips. She pulled back enough to encourage him to carry himself as his stance straightened and solidified despite the confusion flooding his eyes. Gently she grasped his chin as she ran the pad of her thumb over his bottom lip, pulling at it lightly. Her nail scraped lightly from his lip to chin. Her eyes soft, focusing on the contact.

All too suddenly her gaze hardened as she wrenched her hand away and took several steps backward, the abrupt movement causing him to flounder again before her.

"You would expect someone else?" Her voice was thick with accent, anger and accusation dripping into it.

"Irina let me out of this...contraption."

"No."

"Irina..."

She turned from him and walked to the trolley that had been left against the far wall. Her head tilted as she considered the items that lay before her. Her hand reached out and stopped short over one in particular. Fingers twitched above it...

"Irina.."

His voice again made the decision for her and she seized the red ball to her left. Holding it between her index finger and thumb she rolled it from side to side allowing the straps to slap against her hand. She spun on her heel to face him, his eyes latching onto the gag immediately, his tone insistent as he spoke.

"You surprised me. I would not expect this from anyone else, nor do I wish for you to be." A sister▓s name unspoken.

She offered no response. Her face unreadable as she approached.

"I thought we had settled our..."

"You killed me, Jack. I said that I understood. I did not say that I forgave."

"I regretted..."

"Your _regret_ did not resurrect me. Your regret warmed my sisters bed."

Opening his mouth to speak only provided her with the opportunity to ram the ball between his lips, securing it in place before he could object. Circling around him she ignored his growls of protest. Sliding her fingers into his hair she yanked sharply, pulling his head backwards.

"I have no current desire to hear you speak. I will remove the gag should that change. I do not anticipate that being soon."

Releasing her hold she scraped her nails across his back, trailing red marks of ownership as she proceeded again in the direction of the trolley this time knowing exactly what she required. Shrugging off her jacket she allowed it to pool by her feet, her eyes flicking between two items. Taking one in each hand she turned and leaned against the trolley's edge. A feral grin firmly in place.

"Whip? Or crop?"

His eyes widened at the choice. The gag preventing him from vocalising a response other then a grunt that was indistinguishable as a selection or dissent. A growl that could have been her name attempted to escape around the ball.

"The crop darling? Mmmm." She discarded the whip as her fingers caressed the soft leather of the crop's handle. She patted the end of the crop against her lips as she eyed his torso with intent. Propelling herself off the trolley she circled him once, them again, her steps slow, the crop slapping rhythmically against her leg.

His eyes tracked her movements as well as he could, hoping to anticipate when she would strike. The effort proved fruitless. Still in his peripheral vision, her lash came quick and with force, struck low on his back with a well practiced flick of her wrist. He grunted loudly taking the half step forward that his restraints allowed. Not allowing him to recover from the initial shock she flicked again this time against his right shoulder, not as harshly as the first. Followed it again with a sterner lash. The offended skin was quick to turn red.

She patted the flap of the crop against his right arm, light taps from his shoulder to elbow as she passed underneath, standing off to his side. He angled his head towards her, their eyes catching as she struck a forth time. He winced briefly at the sting now passing through his left nipple. She ran the crop the length of his chest, her destination obvious. Reaching his cock she traced the shaft with the lightest of touches. She continued a path down his thigh.

Eye contact never breaking as she leaned in to press a kiss against the curve of the ball that remained wedged in his mouth, the action occurring in parallel to the delicate upward flick her wrist gave. Her tongue snaked out to lick the ball with a purposeful stroke. Her eyes darkening. Brown melting into black as she glanced down between them.

A flick. A slap. His balls her target. His guttural cry echoed through the room.

She crooked a finger into the gag's strap and pulled it out, dragging it down to lie around his neck. "You were beginning to enjoy it too much."

He swallowed several times, breathing deep to clear his mind of the pain that had shot threw him. "Bitch."

A sharp shove was all it took to knock him off balance again. Unable to fall, unable to find his footing. "My dancing puppet." She spat the words at him, venom and hurt fighting for dominance. He steadied himself with difficulty.

"It was a setup. Yelena. There's nothing I can do. Nothing I can undo."

"That you thought you had to kill me to protect her, I understand. That you believed me capable of hiring an assassin to murder our daughter..._our daughter_...If our situations had been reversed, never would I have believed it of you. She is your daughter, your child, you love her more than anything. That you did not grant the same faith to me...so quick to believe the lie. Is your hate for me so encompassing that it eclipses all else?"

"I"

"Yelena buried me. Striped the life from my body to shovel it back in. While you fucked on my grave. With my sister. Was my corpse even cold? Did you dump my body and then go seek hers? Was I still fresh in body and your mind or had I started to rot, to putrefy, is that what I am to you now, a rotted memory?"

She swung for him, her thoughts disjointing, loosing her focus. He twisted as much as possible to avoid the full impact of the blow. The effort, the moment, dissolved her energy. She sagged against him as he had done to her earlier. His arms still held he huffed in frustration at the effort of balancing both of their weights.

"Irina, stop this. Stop, sweetheart. Stop."

Her breathing heaved. Her heart pounded hard, contracting and expanding violently. She pulled away from him slowly, a hand raising up to cup his face, her thumb stroking the skin underneath his eye. A laugh trapped in a sob broke free from her throat. "What have we done to each other?" He inclined his mouth to her palm, pressing a kiss against her flesh.

"I lo"

"No no no." She placed her thumb across lips, a barricade against his words. "Don't say it."

"Because you won't believe me."

"Because I will."

Her fingertips traced the outline of his mouth, slow, deliberate. His lips parted against her touch, his tongue sneaking a taste, drawing the tips in. She withdrew them, painting his mouth with the saliva. Nuzzling her forehead against him her voice was barely loud enough for him to hear. "Don't say it. I...it's too heavy, too much. I can't carry it. Can't give you anything back. Not now."

"We need to let the past go."

"Perhaps we need to let each other go."

"I'd prefer if you just let me out of this thing." She laughed softly. A tiny kiss fluttered from her mouth to his.

"You don't like it?"

"It's a departure from our usual fair."

"I have the clamps and weights..." She cocked her head in the direction of the trolley.

"My balls have taken enough for today."

A hand crept down to caress him, rubbing circles with her knuckles. She slid her free fingers back into his mouth encouraging him to wet them. In a fluid motion she withdrew her hand and replaced it with her mouth while her moistened digits encircled his shaft. The kiss was hard, muted pain still resonating through her veins now mixed with something else. Something entirely them. She gripped the back of his head holding him in place as she began to stroke him, memory and instinct taking hold, leading them both.

Their mouths parted briefly, infinitesimally, breathing the same air, each waiting for the other. She licked her tongue across his lips drawing back before he could capture her. Short laps to madden him while her hand gripping tighter pumping him more readily. A split second delay gave him ample time to secure her bottom lip between his teeth, applying pressure just less then would be needed to break the skin. The bite turned into kiss, her levered at being unrestrained allowing her to direct its course. Her tongue pushed into his mouth in search of his, slipping against it. His breathing hitched as her hand continued to work him, bringing him close to the edge...as she stepped back, her mouth wrenched from his.

"Irina!"

"_I _decide when your balls have had enough."

"I'm going to kill you." The flippant remark fell from his lips before he could catch it. Her eyes clouded over with something he couldn't quite catch, her body stiffening briefly.

"Again?"

"Ir..." She waved her hand to cut him off moving to the one end of the spreader bar as she did so. She undid the clasp around his left wrist. He grimaced change in pressure. The clasp of the right undone he stumbled forward unable to prevent his fall. Rubbing his wrists, trying to encourage the blood to flow again he remained sprawled on his back.

"Floor's cold."

She stood over him, feet on either side of his thighs and rolled her eyes.

"It's a dungeon."

Reaching for the clasp of her belt she unbuckled it, pulling the leather through the loops until it was free from her jeans.

"Are you going to use that now, too?"

She grinned, palming the buckle before cracking the belt out like a whip.

"If you'd like."

"Maybe later."

She pulled her shirt over her head, tossing it on top of the coat she had abandoned earlier, following it with her bra. Taking her by surprise he pushed himself up to grab the back of her knees applying enough pressure to buckle them under her. She landed in his lap arms braced against his chest. "Bastard." He wrapped an arm around her waist securing her position as his lips and tongue attacked her nipple. Grazing his teeth across the bud he elicited a hiss as nails scraped across his scalp. He sucked and bit to the point of pain as his fingers dug into the flesh of her back.

She had insinuated herself into his dreams for nearly three decades. Once as the spirit of a woman who had never truly been real. With the revelation of her true nature she had transformed into a banshee, mocking and taunting. When the ghost of their daughter had haunted his nights, she had become the phantom that reminded him that death in his family was not always a finality. Finally, he had made her the ghoul that reflected back his own transgression, a decaying vision of the slain.

Now flesh and blood and bone before him he could see her eyes flooded with the ghosts of each death she had endured. The clouds that kept whirling.

He flipped them over laying against the cool of the floor. Both pairs of hands reached for her button and zipper, push and pull she wiggled free her underwear lost with the jeans.

She dragged him to her roughly. Legs parting and locking around his waist. He entered her forcefully drawing out a moan from her. Pulling out completely before thrusting into her again, one hand bearing his weight as the other traced paths along her skin. Her teeth sunk deeply into his shoulder, determined, desperate to mark him. The speed of his thrusts began to increase, driving into her as she rocked back with abandon. Her eyes clenched shut locking her ghosts away as she focused on the feel of him. He noticed and slowed, his movements more measured, ignoring her growl at the new unwanted pace. "Jack, _faster, harder_." She ground the words out, pushing her hips into his.

"Open your eyes."

She faltered.

"Open them. Look at me." He stilled entirely. She forced herself into compliance, locking her eyes into his. The ghosts swirled and raged, some faded under his gaze but none dispersed. A f would not eradicate their presence. Not even he was arrogant enough to think otherwise. Never breaking eye contact, Jack pulled her leg forward, positioning it over against his shoulder. He thrust deep, hard, resuming pace. She tore at his back arching beneath him but never closing her eyes. Her walls tightened around him clutching him deeper. His fingers sought out her clit, teasing, circling, her resulting orgasm almost painful in its release. Her eyes closed of their own volition. She did not call his name, did not make declarations, merely offered him her open gaze when it became possible to lift her lids again, as he continued to thrust until he came.

Words that she would not allow spoken hung silently in the air around them. Broken by each other and others. She wound her arms around him as he sank half on top of her. They settled and stilled. Lay naked on a dungeon floor in the darkness of an arbitrary night.

Letting go had never been them.


End file.
